Looking Never Hurts
by Sue Snell
Summary: With a little encouragement, Boq decided it was time he try to use the Governer of Munchkinland's obsessive fascination with him to his homeland's advantage. His plan is risk free, because everyone knows that looking never hurts. T for some language.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked. If I did, a better (i.e. written-by-professionals) version of the song number featured in this chapter would've made it to the stage.**

**This is the first Wicked fic I've ever posted, so thank you for reading it!**

**Note: Since these characters live in a musical I decided that it would be natural to throw in a song. If you find my lyrics less than impressive, you're probably not the only one, and don't worry; this is **_**probably**_** the only chapter that will have an original song. And no, the lyrics don't fit any tune that I'm aware of.**

**---**

"Your tea, Madame."

"It's Nessarose..." the Governor of Munchkinland murmured, knowing it was no use, arguing out of habit. She took the cup and blew the steam off the liquid's surface, staring despondently at the ripples her breath created.

"Yes, _Madame_," Boq responded, his tone of voice more perfunctory than cruel. Nonetheless, he noted, it was still cruel enough. Nessarose flinched. He knew she'd flinched, but he was not looking at her; he saw the movement in her teacup, a shuddering, miniature tsunami interrupting the little ripples. _I hope you spill it and scald yourself_. "Will that be all?"

"I seem to have spilled a little. Please bring me a napkin."

"Yes, Madame." As he left the room he was sure he could feel Nessarose's gaze burning into his back. On his way to the nearest linen closet he passed one the maids. What was her name, again? He hadn't a clue. Oh well, she probably didn't know him either.

"Hello, Boq."

"Hello..."

"Quietly having it out with her again?" the maid asked with caustically sarcastic cheerfulness.

"I suppose..." Did this woman watch him while he worked, or something? Who was she?

"Well, _do_ have fun," she said in the same tone of voice. With that, she bustled off to Nessarose's study. _Nessarose's study._

_"Idiot,"_ Boq whispered to himself, shaking his head. Of _course_ that maid knew him; she was the one who came in every other day during Nessarose's evening teatime to dust. How could he not immediately recognize someone he'd seen every other day since his first day here? Some kind of tunnel vision? He wondered if that was even possible as he thrust the closet door open, yanked a napkin out with much more force than was strictly necessary, and slammed the door back shut. After all, he always made a point of _not_ looking at Nessarose whenever he came in; there was nothing for potential tunnel vision to focus on.

Upon returning to Nessarose's study he wordlessly handed her the napkin while staring at the far wall of the room before turning to leave again.

"Boq?"

"Yes, Madame?" He did not turn around.

"Look at me, Boq," she said softly.

"Yes, Madame." He turned to face her. He heard her take in a breath sharply, as if the very idea of him making eye contact with her for once made her heart skip a beat. Perhaps it did. And perhaps now that he faced her the sheer force of her emotion caused her to tremble. Perhaps. He did not know. He still refused to look at her. Instead he focused his attention on the maid, who'd paused in her work to openly stare at Nessarose. The three of them froze in this tableau for several seconds, Nessarose giving no indication that she'd noticed how rude the female servant was being. In fact, it seemed like she really _didn't_ notice, as if she may not have known of the maid's presence at all. If Boq was suffering from some sort of tunnel vision, he wasn't the only one.

At last Nessarose sighed and said, "I'm very tired. Take me to my bedroom, please."

"Yes, Madame."

He gripped the handles of her wheelchair so tightly he was half-convinced he'd wake up tomorrow with bruised palms. He hated her the most on _these_ nights. The fact was that she was perfectly capable of making the trip from her study to her bedroom and getting herself into her bed under her own power; most nights she did just that. That's why he knew that when one of these nights came and she asked for his assistance she only did so in the hope of getting some desired reaction from him. He had no idea whether it was anger or desperation that drove her to do this and was even more in the dark about what she was trying to get him to say or think or feel or do. That alone drove him insane, the thought that she may be winning, that he may be doing exactly what she wanted him to do and there was no way for him to know it...

"Ouch! Dammit, Boq..."

He blinked several times. Somehow he had managed to get so lost in his thoughts that though he made it to her bedroom he'd crashed her chair into the bed. Assuming that he didn't subconsciously do that on purpose, of course. Whether that was the case or not, he could still hardly believe he'd done it. "S-sorry. Madame."

"Please help me into bed," she said flatly.

"Yes... Madame." He might have imagined it, but Boq thought he heard Nessarose give a little gasp during that pause as she had when he'd almost looked at her. She must've been hoping that he would say her name for once.

After pulling the covers on the bed back, he stiffly put one arm around her back and the other underneath her legs. Once she'd wrapped her arms around his neck he picked her up. The way she clung to him made him want to drop her and he was barely breathing, as if loathe to let air that had passed from her lungs enter his. He couldn't help noticing that it felt like she was wearing nothing under her simple robe. _Disgusting._ She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered something unintelligible, her breath burning in his ear.

"What?" he murmured, placing her on the bed.

"Nothing," she said quietly as he pulled his arms out from under her. "Good night."

Boq wordlessly left the room.

**---**

The first thing Boq heard upon re-entering Nessarose's study to collect her teacup and napkin was, "Have you _seen_ the way she looks at you?"

"Don't you have dusting to do?" he responded irritably.

"Just finishing up, actually," the maid said, flourishing her feather-duster theatrically, "I was only wondering if you'd happened to notice, that's all."

"Of _course_ I _noticed_," he grumbled.

"No need to be so sour," said the maid, "It's not necessarily a _bad_ thing."

"Can't say I can see why not."

"Are you serious?" said the maid, "The oppressive governor of our land has a thing for you and you don't see a way that that can be good?"

"No, I don't," said Boq.

"Boq..." said the maid, shaking her head.

"What?"

"_Boq_," she repeated, this time holding out the syllable on a perfect F concert.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Boq, we've worked together for a while now," she sang, "So I would like to offer you some good advice."

"Yes?"

"Looks like the Madame has a crush on you,

So when around her, could you be a bit more... nice?"

"_Nice?_" he spat. _"Crush"? That must be the understatement of the year..._

"You see, Boq, the point is that she _likes_ you.

There's no reason you can't use that to help us all.

Give her a reason to be nice to you,

And our country's biggest problem will get more... small."

"How?"

"Well..." said the maid, "Why don't you,

Tell her that you just can't look at her,

That even though you _long_ to look at her--"

"What?"

"Tell her that you can't _bear_ to look at her," she continued, dismissing Boq's question with a wave of her hand, "Knowing what she's done to your homeland."

"Well _that_ part's true."

"Right!" She nodded. "And,

Because she wants you to look at her,

And wants you to _want_ to look at her,

She'll right a wrong or two,

And it will all be thanks to you!

How does that sound, Boq?"

"Fine, I guess..." he said uncertainly, "But _then_ what?"

"Well then, of course, you'll have to look at her,

Just now and then, just look at her,

And maybe while you're looking,

Give her the occasional smile."

"_What?_"

"For Oz's sake!" she cried, "All I'm saying is to _look_ at her,

She'll be happy with a look every once in a while.

Boq, you'll be a hero.

Just get your butt in gear--

Oh! It's amazing what a man can do when he flirts!

For every look you give her,

The Munchkin life gets better!

And, hey! Everyone knows that looking never hurts!"

"What?"

"_Everyone_ knows that looking never hurts," she sang again.

"Okay, stop," he said.

"What?"

"I think I understand what you're saying," he sung reluctantly.

"I _hope_ so..." she muttered

"But look, your plan is doomed to quickly get too tough...."

"How so?"

"Once I've spent enough time looking at her,

Just _looking_ at her will no longer be enough!"

"You have a point," she said.

"Yes I do."

"But _what's_ your point?" she demanded.

"Pardon me?"

"So looking at her won't always be enough," she sang in a mocking tone, "Who cares?!

Boq, take one for the team,

'cause to me it would seem,

Your pride's not worth the plight of a nation.

So good night and good luck,

This is your chance to fuh-

lirt in the name of Munchkin liberation!"

"Good night?" said Boq, trying to pretend he hadn't heard that last part, "Where are you going?"

"I'm done dusting, silly," she said, adding in song, "It's time for me to go."

"Oh."

She began to leave the room but turned back around to face Boq when she reached the doorway. "Boq, will you at least _think_ about it?"

After a moment's contemplation, he sang tentatively, "I suppose that looking, _just_ looking, never hurts."

"That's right, Boq!" she cried in delight before singing back to him, "Looking, just looking, never hurts! Harmonize, now!"

"_Looking,_" they sang together, "_Just looking, never hurts!_"

**---**

**Chapter 2 coming up soon! Reviews highly appreciated as usual!**


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